I'm Coming Home
by kweenofalldreams13
Summary: As I read the headline, I couldn't help wondering if she was dead too. Because if she was dead, I was going to be dead. That, or I was coming home. Jude's thoughts on returning to New York.


I don't own Across the Universe, Jude, Max, Lucy, Prudence, Jojo, Sadie, Paco, or Martha Feeny. I don't own the rights to "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds," or "Hey Jude", both credited to Lennon/McCartney. Enjoy, and please R&R

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I'm Coming Home

After work I shoved a ciggie in my mouth and lit it up with an old lighter I nicked from Phil ages ago. Most of me coworkers, like Phil and Davis, all flocked to the pubs after work, but I didn't fancy a drink just yet. On the way home, I stopped by the newspaper stand and tossed a fivepence piece into the slot. "Ta," said the bloke. I picked up a newspaper and nodded to him, my eyes sliding over the headlines: FIVE AMERICAN ANTI-WAR RADICALS KILLED IN HOMEMADE BOMB BLAST. My heart skidded to a halt.

"_My God_," I whispered. _Lucy..._ I scanned the article for dates and locations. July 27, 1967. New York City, Greenwich Village. Up in...wasn't that the building that Lucy worked in with that shagger bastard Paco? It listed Paco as one of the five who were killed, as the one who initiated all this bullshit in the first place. It didn't say any other names, just Paco's, but it did mention that the rest of the ones killed were employees of his. _What the hell about Lucy_?

"Tragic, ain't it? The nerve of some'a them Americans," the bloke grumbled, lighting himself up a fag. I trod down to the beach, ripping up the paper until the words were no longer discernible. The water frothed against the sand softly.

Lucy...could she have died with them? Although it went against most of my common sense, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe she had voluntarily gone along with the bomb plan after I had been deported, maybe in hope that it would fail? _No, Lucy wouldn't. Lucy would never kill herself, not over a worthless stiff like myself_. I swallowed the smoke, and stubbed out me cigarette and threw it into the water. It washed away with the waves.

"Jude?" Mum asked when I got home, a look of concern painted over her wrinkled face. I looked at her once more, not as me mother, but objectively. She'd aged so much and gotten so much older worrying about me all this time. I'd never thought about it but she must have worried about me a lot, especially when I was in America, what with everything going on over there. I hung my coat up and walked over to her, putting my arms around her. "Jude, what's gotten into you?"

"I'm sorry, Mum."

The words took me off guard. Not quite that I didn't expect it to come out, I just didn't expect it to come out so sudden or abrupt or whatever you wanted to call it. Mum pulled away from me, her dark eyes boring into mine and her eyebrows pulling together in the middle.

"What do you mean, sorry? What for?"

"Never appreciated you, I guess. Just wanted to let you know I'm sorry." I backed away from her and up into me room upstairs, to sketch a little bit. It started out as just an ugly empty beach, with a few storm clouds swirling on the horizon, but then the lightning came in, and a lone man sitting on the beach with his head in his hands. And for the piéce de resistánce, Lucy's beautiful face sprouted from the clouds, her big eyes stealing into your soul. The lightning dotted the sky like diamonds. _Hm._ I turned the paper over and started scribbling out words, words that reminded me of the better days. When I was happy.

_Picture yourself in a boat on a river_

_With tangerine trees and marmalade skies_

_Somebody calls you_

_You answer quite slowly_

_The girl with kaleidoscope eyes._

_Cellophane flowers of yellow and green_

_Towering over your head_

_Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes_

_And she's gone._

_Lucy in the sky with diamonds_

_Lucy in the sky with diamonds_

_Lucy in the sky with diamonds_

_Ahhh..._

I pushed away the paper. My stomach was turning uncomfortably, so I grabbed for a book on the shelves to distract me, the first book I saw. The words didn't make a story, they made letters and mixed up symbols on the page that I couldn't read. All I could make out was Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. I slammed down the book on me desk and grabbed me jacket. I was goin' down to the pub.

I slipped the bartender a pence piece and the glass of lager slid across the counter to me. I tipped the glass back, swallowed the bitter liquid, and set it back down onto the counter. My head started buzzin' with music, and I wasn't even that drunk yet. I hadn't used any weed or LSD since we were in America, so the hallucinations of Max sitting beside me in the window couldn't have been attributed to either of those.

He sang to me, his voice sounding oddly refreshing and at the same time it stabbed me hard in the belly.

_Hey Jude, don't make it bad_

_Take a sad song and make it better_

_Remember to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better._

I stood from my spot, tipping the bartender an extra few pence and pushing out the door. I wasn't drunk. I wasn't high. It was madness that drove pictures of Max and Lucy into my head, madness that illustrated Max's lyrics of inspiration into my brain. But the part that took the cake was the madness that convinced me to go get my green card from the immigration services and a plane ticket to New York.

_And any time you feel the pain,_

_Hey Jude, refrain_

_Don't carry the world upon your shoulders_

_Na na na na na, na na na na_

_Hey Jude_

_Don't let me down_

_You have found her, now go and get her_

_The minute you let her under your skin_

_Then you begin to make it better_.

Mum scrutinised me while I packed my bags up again, but this time she wasn't as patronising as before. She smiled lightly, even helping me fold my socks into perfect little squares and stuff them into me luggage. When I looked back up at her, she had little hints of tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. I took her into me arms and kissed her on the cheek.

"I love you, Mum. I hope I see you again soon," I whispered, and hugged her hard. She pulled back, letting the tears spill down her withered old cheeks. It had been me, all these years, me that held her back. I never meant to, but being her only son, a bastard child born to a forgotten woman, I tied her down. She could have had something beautiful with somebody else, but I scared all the potentials away. Even if she hadn't gotten married, maybe she could have had a life, if she hadn't had me, she could have had some kind of life. But she had me. And I took it all away from her.

"Good luck, Jude," she murmured, kissing my cheek and squeezing my collar between two tiny fingers.

On the way to the airport, I decided to give a cabbie a call to see if he would pick me up at New York.

"Jude? Shit, man, how you doing?" Max exclaimed, sounding excited.

"Doin' crap, man, doin' real shitty. How's Lucy?" I asked, feeling a fool for not asking him how he was first. He didn't seem to mind.

"She's been a wreck, man, ever since you got shipped back and that dumbass Paco blew himself up. Never comes out of her room, doesn't even bother to protest anymore. Sadie and Pru have been trying to get her to come out, but nothing's working." I opened my mouth to ask what he meant about that, but he beat me to it; even overseas the little booger knew me so well. "Pru came back and she's singing backup for Sadie and Jojo. The Po boys are back together, man. Damn, I wish you could be here."

"Well, that might not be a problem anymore, Max," I said softly, eyeballing my ticket. _Liverpool to New York City, New York. One-way. Visa: unlimited._ "I'm coming home."


End file.
